Hello all,

I think there is something for all of us in this story.

Kathleen

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Reaching more than 31,500 subscribers in 107 countries, this is...

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HeroicStories #269: 10 January 2002                www.HeroicStories.com
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Mirror Image                                               Story Editor:
By Mark Brennaman                                             C.O. Fines
Kentucky, USA

   In early 2000, I was a victim of a senseless, unprovoked act of
violence that left several scars on my neck. I survived and the
assailant is in prison, yet I will never really be the same. To shave
is to see one of the scars. Until recently, to see the scar was to
trigger a visual memory of the violent act. I'd "see" the assailant's
rage-filled face behind me.

   My first solution was to stop shaving and trust my hair was properly
combed. I just didn't want to see the scar which brought back the
memory of an ugly event that nearly claimed my life.

   The dilemma worsened with each passing day. Instead of feeling
better with time for surviving, I began to remember the terrible event
more often and more vividly. It seemed as though I experienced the
attack day after day.

   I finally sought help. My doctor's first question to me was, "Do you
have a good relationship with your father?" I replied, "Yes, we have a
great relationship." The doctor then asked if my father had taught me
how to shave. Before I could answer that question, a memory I had
forgotten for many, many years popped in my head, and I immediately
smiled!

   "Doctor," I replied, "this is so cool. I remember standing at my
dad's side as a little boy, infatuated with the process of shaving. It
got to the point that when he shaved in the mornings, I was always
there watching him, asking endless questions.

   "My dad bought me a little plastic toy razor, and it even had a knob
on the bottom of the handle that opened the top, just like his real
razor. The blade was a piece of cardboard that looked like a razor
blade. After that, I got to smear shave cream all over my face and
shave with my dad."

   My doctor then suggested that I think of this pleasant memory every
time I shaved to displace the memory of the attack.

   Everyone in my family remembers my little plastic razor after all
these years. It has been so much fun reaching back to my boyhood, a
time when I trusted everyone and yearned for the future. The
remembrance has replaced my violent memory.

   I not only get to feel the love my dad showed me then when I shave
today, I get to remember what it's like to be innocent once again.
Precious memories are made in an instant and last forever. I am so
thankful my dad had the patience back then to let me "shave" so I can
shave today without visualizing an ugly event.

   The memory alone has strengthened an already strong relationship.
What made me very happy then is making me happier today. Thank you,
Dad!


EDITOR'S NOTE: The author's website is: http://www.witwords.com

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   We're still getting comments on "Getting There" (#265), which
published 27 December 2001. John in Arkansas: "Because our family
ALWAYS traveled, like the author's family did in her story, we kids
assumed that everybody did -- and took it for granted, as she did. I
remember fainting on a Civil War battlefield, then getting to enjoy the
cool museum while the rest of the family hiked that day. The day we
really found out how lucky we were was when my sister, her fiance, and
I all were visiting Mom and Dad and, of course, Dad dragged out the
slide projector and we watched tray after tray of vacation slides,
trips-to-Grandma's slides, and whatever else. When it was all over, my
sister APOLOGIZED to her fiance for his having to sit through all those
slides. With tears in his eyes, he answered, '"Don't apologize, at
least you went places. All we did was visit family.'"

   Linda in Maine: "Reading 'Getting There' brought back the many
wonderful trips my family took when we were kids. The three of us kids
would be piled in the back of the station wagon for camping trips at
least once a month. We generally camped in national forests and spent a
lot of time hiking, fishing and just being together out in nature. As I
got older and realized that not all families spent time together in
this way, I cherished the experiences more. Both my brother and myself
have a deeper awareness and appreciation of the natural world around us
because of these trips we took. Thank you for the memories."

   Chris in Virginia commented on "Bringing the Chicken" (#268): "I
read this story with a sense of deja vu. I was on the debate team for
my high school in Des Moines, Iowa. Since this was a parochial school,
my teammates came from all over the city and surrounding counties. But
all of the upper classmen practiced something I called 'the transitive
theory of gasoline,' providing rides to the students who couldn't drive
yet without asking for anything in return. It was just understood that
this debt was to be passed forward, that when the freshman became
seniors they would be the ones driving all over town to take a new
generation of freshman to or from practice."

   Pat in New Jersey: "This story reminded me of the 'Purdue Club' at
the church my husband and I attended as students in the 60s. Purdue
Club was open to everyone in the church who was affiliated with the
university -- staff, students, faculty. The second Sunday of the month,
we spent the afternoon with a picnic potluck meal, games, sports, talk,
and chasing after overactive children. The children all knew that an
adult (not always one of their parents) would be there to kiss a
booboo, change a diaper, get a drink, etc. They knew that whichever
adult scooped them up or offered assistance would love them and take
care of them just like that adult was their parent. Food *could* have
been a problem for undergrads, but they were told, 'No food required,
just bring your appetite.' They generally brought soda, potato chips,
etc. Married students and faculty brought other food. There was always
a feast, more than could be eaten, though only half the group brought
food. Even today I remember the kindness of those people to young
adults who were not related to them, but were their family all the
same."

   A. in California had a thoughtful point about "Bringing the
Chicken": "How lucky when we are in a position to bring the chicken! It
might be nice to remember that not all young couples end up in this
enviable position. There are a lot of folks who by age 50 who are still
embarrassed at only being able to bring the potato chips -- or at only
bringing themselves and not the other half of a couple. More often than
not, both categories are passed over socially, to the ultimate loss of
the whole, in our overly fragmented society. Paying it forward in deed
is often more appreciated than paying it forward in dollars. It's also
often a lot harder."

   Andy in Indiana: "I occassionally comment on really old stories,
because I'm WAY behind on my e-mail reading. I do shuffle non-essential
e-mail to the side and read it at my leisure. Today I'm into my second
full day of working with technical support to get my computer to work
properly. Stuck on intermittent hold for hours on end, I turn to my
e-mail backlog to keep me occupied and sane. So far I've read about
seven HeroicStories. Let me tell you, they really go a long way to
reminding me to have patience and treat everyone around me with
respect. I just wanted to reiterate how much I enjoy this service you
provide."

Joyce Schowalter, Editor in Chief
Co-Conspirator to Make the World a Better Place

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